A Weekend in Paradise

One of the greatest things about being in Malawi is the ease at which you can pop into a stunning scenery.

Last weekend myself and the family I am staying with had a spontaneous weekend in Pemba, Mozambique. We were the only ones in the cosy lodge. There was nobody else on the beach. The water was warm and crystal clear. We had cheap, fresh fish and sea food. I should probably stop before you start hating me too much.

Grand Theft Auto.

So I had the interesting experience of being able to DRIVE in Malawi. I was quite nervous when I entered the car, for I have been a passenger for the past months and have seen how dodgy things can get on the roads.

It was initially comforting to realise how wide the lanes are in Blantyre. This was a short lived feeling, for I soon realised they are wide in order to accommodate the cars, the parked cars, the crazy minibuses, the insanely dangerous overtaking that goes on, the goats, the dogs, the cats, the pedestrians, the queues for fuel and the men selling samoosas.

It was great fun driving around in such a chaotic city, I felt like I was in a video game. Reaching a crossing with traffic lights that don’t work really tests your awareness and your ability to decide whether or not accelerating will put your life in danger. Every time you stop the car in traffic you get offered enough fruit in 2 minutes to be able to make a fruit salad then and there.

I miss driving. Maybe Santa will get me my own car for me to drive around in Malawi.

Just do it.

Remember my post with the newspaper article? This morning I got invited by Zasher, my footballer patient, to go to Kamuzu Stadium (the only stadium in Blantyre) to watch a football match. I discussed this with my friends, who strongly advised me not to go. Here are some of their reasons:

1. "Kamuzu Stadium has been deemed by FIFA as a having an unsafe infrastructure. In other words, it could easily collapse at any moment."

2. "Just you and your patient?! But you don't even know him."

3. "During busy matches, the stadium can SERIOUSLY overcrowd." The official stadium capacity is 32, 000 but in October 2008 it is estimated that 60, 000 gathered inside to watch the Flames, the Malawian National team. Nice n' cosy.

4. "Are you sure you want to do that? It can get pretty hectic in there. Yesterday one of the teams that played is now banned because hundreds of their fans invaded the pitch during play with missiles and everything."

5. "You're crazy."

So I decided to go.

The first thing I thought was, What can I wear that will not make me stand out? I put on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. That should do it, easygoing and discreet. I wonder if wearing a bracelet and ring is too much? I then stopped and realised: it is definately not a bracelet and a ring that will put me on the spotlight. No matter what I wear I will still be a 22 year old Caucasian female amongst a predominantly male environment of low to middle class Malawians. Get over it.

I'm so glad I went. Zasher's pass entitled us to the VIP area of the Stadium (I'm still not sure what differentiated it from the rest of the seats) and I had a great time with him and his friends. And most importantly, I didn't feel unsafe at any point. Escom United beat Moyale by 2-1, and I left the match happy because I didn't really care who took the trophy home.

Beat you this time, MALARIA!

I guess being in bed for 3 days with 39ºC fevers, headaches, joint pains and your body expelling the food you ingest in all forms is part of the experience of being in Africa. Well, been there done that.

Don't know know what it was. But now I'm better! And I get a souvenier ticket to say I got a Malaria test done. I guess it's not as cool if the test was negative but oh well.

I also leave you with a picture of the flying ants which have now come out, it's their season to shine.

Oh my God.

I respect religions. I respect faith. But some things just frustrate me.

I was watching a story on Sky News today about evangelical churches in the UK who claim to cure HIV through God. People who have been diagnosed with this (scientifically incurable) disease register in these centres and are seen by pastors who guarantee a 100% success rate. How do they know if the patients are cured? Oh, it's obvious. "You will experience some pains in your body or have some diarrhoea, it means the HIV is coming out of your body."

There are so many aspects about this story that are completely outrageous. The false hopes. The fact that people are making money out this nonsense. Having patients ACTUALLY believing that prayers and holy water will cure them. But worst thing is that these pastors have the nerve to tell patients they are completely healed. "You've got to stop taking the medicine now. Once God forgives you the disease will definitely go." At least 6 people have now died because they stopped taking their HIV tablets.

There's another reason as to why I have decided to post about this topic. The other day I sat down for lunch and was joined by 2 pastors. We discussed different religious matters, one of them being spiritual healing. I couldn't believe my ears when I was being told, in a hospital setting, that a broken bone could be healed with prayers. No need for surgery, just prayers. I asked if they had done it before and they told me "I haven't managed yet, God only choses certain people to do that. But one day I will." It's a scary thought, how supposedly educated human beings in a century where science is developing every day, believe such... crap.

If you are interested in the Sky News article:

http://news.sky.com/home/uk-news/article/16117269

The Daily Times, Malawi

I thought it was pretty cool:

Music for my Ears

Another parcel, another beautiful day. This time I was pleasantly surprised with a CD with a special little mix of songs with personal favourites and the latest tunes on the radio.

I'm listening to it as I type this. Getting a CD over the post is such a clever little idea... I get to be updated on what is out there (is Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO not the latest hit??) and I get to listen to what my friend is listening to at the same time, at a different point in the world. It's like a letter in 23 tracks.

P.S. Jackson 5 and Dolly Parton are always a good bet.

Early Valentine's

I'm still trying to understand whether most men in Malawi are really nice or just plain perverts. I know a lot of people would vote for the latter, but I'm still not sure. Some people are just friendly. But then others have further intentions. It's a thin line that I'm still learning to judge.

This weekend I met a gentleman who offered me a drink and spoke to me for about 10mins. It was a pleasant conversation, but it certainly didn't sweep me off my feet.

So... is it normal that today, 2 days later, I get a flower bouquet sent to the hospital? Sweet or creepy? I'm still deciding.

One step at a time

This is my hospital. I thought I'd give you a little tour just to show you who I work with. Although I treat both adults and children, I only have pictures with the kids. But anyway, who wants to see pictures with adults when the kids are this cute?

This is Emme. When I first arrived she was bed bound and could not walk. She leaves the hospital tomorrow, walking! I will miss her.

Can you tell that I'm a happy person?

The best things come in small packages.

For those who are used to the luxurious life of having a post man come to their door to give out letters, I shall proceed to explaining how it works in Malawi. Since streets have no names and houses have no numbers, each household is designated a P.O. Box, a numbered hole on a wall in the post office. A trip to the post office is a rare thing to do, but that's where I found myself yesterday.

I had my first parcel waiting for me. A beautifully filled envelope with letters, postcards and photographs put together by a dear friend from London. I read everything over and over again with a tear in the corner of my eye and spread the photos out on the floor. Thank you everyone who wrote in the postcard and thank you especially H.B. for providing me with such a special moment.

3 reasons why you shouldn't be jealous about my lifestyle

I get a lot of people telling me how incredible it must be to be living in an African country and how much they wish they could get on a plane and do the same thing. Well here's a few reasons to dampen down those feelings:

1. Fuel shortages- It affects everything and everyone. You are forced to carefully select your life events, making you really consider whether or not you should leave the house to do certain things. You start seeing less cars on the road. Public transport fees doubling their prices. In addition, supermarket shelves start to lack in certain products- for instance, there is a serious shortage of soft drinks in town. And believe me, when it's 32ºC at 8am, people like their chilled soft drinks to cool off.

2. I'm not getting paid- Yes, it's soul fulfilling when you know that you are helping others as a volunteer without asking for anything in return. But it's financially tougher than you think! Drinking tap water is currently an excellent way to save up. Don't worry, I'll keep checking for Cholera symptoms.

3. Safety- This was essentially the trigger for this negative post. A couple of nights ago we had an unfortunate episode whereby some people tried to break into the house. Thankfully, they were unsuccesful in doing so. They did, however, manage to kill 2 of our dogs with great amonts of rat poison. It was a shocking and very sad morning.

So, still keen on joining me?

25.10.11

Me and my amazing chocolate cake.

I’m used to a birthday where I wake up and have to put on some warm clothes and get out the umbrella. I’m used to a birthday where I’m surrounded by people I know and love.

I had mixed feelings about turning 22 this year. Quite honestly, as the day approached, I kind of ignored the fact that it was my birthday and a big part of me wanted to discreetly go unseen during the day without people really knowing it was my “special day”. With a lot of encouragement from my closest buddies here in Blantyre, I ended up having a dinner at home which even included ‘bacalhau’ and ‘rabanadas’. People here genuinely enjoy being with their friends (although I’ve only known them for a month they are inevitably a great support to me), and they will make an effort to be with you. When I invited people I thought half of the list wouldn't turn up, especially being a weekday. Hell no. Everyone made it, no lame excuses. It was beautiful to realize how much I enjoyed spending my birthday day with people who I didn’t even know 40 days ago, and how grateful I am to have met a great group of people who I will be spending the next 5 months with. This year I even wore a skirt, t-shirt and flip-flops on the day- definitely the first year I celebrated with 36°. I was even surprised in the morning with the entire hospital singing Happy Birthday to me- when will that ever happen again?

Thank you all for the Birthday wishes, I wish you had been here to celebrate it with me as well.

Into the Wild

Last Friday I travelled next door to South Luangwa, Zambia. Did I have a good time? It is now one of my favourite places in the entire world, so yes.

South Luangwa is widely known for it's beautiful landscapes and abundance of wildlife. I was there for 4 days and I couldn't help notice how happy I was. Whether I was waking up to the sound of hippos, listening to the chirping birds, looking at elephants in their habitat for hours, feeling the adrenalin of being 3m away from a lion or crossing a crocodile infested river in a jeep, I was constantly appreciating the opportunity of being able to be in such an incredible place.

I apologise if this post is a bit too corny, but I'm still overwhelmed by this experience. I am now almost broke, but it was worth it. I got offered a job over dinner with the manager of the lodge where I stayed at- I didn't accept it but I didn't refuse it either. It's been over a month that I have been in Africa, and if my family and friends were right about "the first month will always be the hardest", I cannot wait for the next 5 months.

Why I will never be a true Malawian

- I flinch whenever anything moves. Even my hair

- I put on mosquito repellent every day

- I don't go to church on Sunday

- I only drink bottled water

- I can't walk around comfortably without holding onto my bag

- I'm too scared to cycle around

- I always try to be on time. When I commit to something, I try my best to accomplish it

- I still hate spiders (last week I was strongly advised to check for spiders before putting on my shoes. Since that day I've only worn flip flops)

- I'm a bit of an organised freak

- I love fish (it's rare to have it here)

- I check the bath over and over again before actually getting in it

- I can't eat nsima on a regular basis

- I don't believe in witchcraft

- I believe in gay rights

- I try to complete tasks at an average speed. Sometimes even faster than normal

- I respect pedestrians when driving. I try to avoid injuring them

- I still find it weird when I walk in the streets and people shout out "Nzungo! Nzungo!" That means "white person"
- I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have electricity from 6m-5am. Not even a light to read a book

- I don't hold hands with my friends when talking to them

The list is probably endless, these are just some of the things I thought of.

What's cooking?

A friend of mine who reads my blog made a very good point the other day. Although I have made reference to other cultural aspects of Malawi, I have not really spoken about the food that is eaten here.

Although it's a very good question, the answer is not half as exciting as you wish it was. In my head, the reason for that is fairly simple: 'Malawian food' is theoretically what the locals would typically eat. Unfortunately the locals don't have the finances to make delightful dishes like 'Portuguese Bacalhau', 'Spanish Paella' or 'English Fish and Chips' (did I really just describe fish n' chips as something delightful??) Therefore, all they eat is nsima.

Nsima is a pretty flavourless blob made out of corn flour. It looks like mashed potatoes but is less nutritional, cheaper, and very easy to make, and because of it's "neutral" flavour, it can be eaten with everything and anything. The other day I tried it with a bit of beef and it wasn't too bad, but then again I'm a good eater and enjoy everything that is fed to me (still haven't found the courage to eat the fried mice they sell in the streets though). Nevertheless, I wouldn't be able to eat it like a local- for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, as a snack.. i.e. ONLY eat nsima for the rest of my life.

That's not my name.

Interestingly enough, here in Malawi the "r's" and the "l's" are switched whenever people feel like it. I found out because I am now called Laura, Laula, Raura and Raula. There is no pattern or correlation for when people decide to change the letters which means I have to be prepared to answer to all of those names.

There's no actual harm in changing the letters. In fact it can be quite entertaining. The other day the local newspaper published an article about the President visiting a school and titled it "School of crapping children greet the President."It makes you wonder if the journalists were just having a fun day at the office.

Hashing

No Mum and Dad, I'm not on drugs. I am, however, midly tipsy. Why? Because I just got back from my first jog in Malawi and was then kindly forced to down 3 beers.

The HASH club is a group of people who get together and jog in the city of Blantyre. A different person organises it every week, marking a flour/chalk trail which we then follow. When you reach a crossing, the group divides and tries to find the path with 3 white marks. Once these have been found you shout "On and On!" so that the people who have jogged onto the wrong path turn round and follow you. Does that make sense? I hope it does, because it was great fun.

Great fun but extremely tiring. I was not used to jogging in this altitude and under this sun. Not to mention that the last time I found the energy to exercise was about 2 months ago. But I survived, and we then gathered round in the hosts house and socialised a bit. I was offered a first beer, forced to drink the second one because I was new to the group and had the pleasure to chug down a third one because I was lame enough to stretch after the jog. Silly me. They were quite surprised at how well I handled those beers, so I explained "It's ok, the English taught me how to drink".

Lake of Stars

Those who know me are fully aware that I am very organised. I make lists, I plan my days and I like stuff to go as scheduled. That's exactly what didn't happen this weekend.

I woke up at 7am on Saturday and decided that it would be a good idea to go and visit Lake Malawi (about a 3 hour drive up North). It was one of my best ideas ever. Lake Malawi is like a secret little gem in Africa, one of the most beautiful things that I have ever experienced in my (short-lived) life. Peaceful, calm, stunning. Believe it or not, it made me think "regardless of how the next 6 months go, this makes it all worth it."

As the evening approached I had my second spontaneous moment: I went to the Lake of Stars. You don't know what that is? WHAT?! Over on this side of Africa, you would be a weirdo and an outcast to society. Lake of Stars is THE Musical Festival of the year- Sudoeste, Reading, Super Bock Super Rock and Glastonbury all put together in one. People actually fly into Malawi to come to see this, and that's a big deal, because that never happens here. Two of the big bands this year included The Foals (English band), and Freshlygrounded (South African band, played Waka Waka with Shakira). The stages were set up on the 'beach' next to the lake, you get to mingle with foreigners and locals, you dance to anything and everything that is playing, you meet more people than you can possibly remember, you feel privileged to be there. My night ended when the following day started, with the company of the Malawian sunrise.

It's when they throw you in the deep end that you realise how deep that place really is.

So I considered waiting until the end of the week to make a structured analysis about my first week at work. I'm half way there and I've definately seen enough to blog about it.

If being told that you are the Lead Physio of a hospital 2 days into your job isn't the scariest thing, that's worrying. Let me place you all in the same page as me: I just graduated, this is my first job, I have never seen most of the paediatric conditions I am currently treating, in fact I have never treated a child in my life and I am living in a country very different to back home. Oh, did I mention that none of my patients speak A WORD OF ENGLISH? I have never mimed so much in my life. I have never relied so much on a little piece of paper as the one I have in my pocket with some life-saving words I have picked up.

Nevertheless, I have never had so much fun in a room with people who don't understand me and I don't understand them! Although it gets very tough trying to get your message across it is extremely rewarding when you succeed. Not only do the mothers of the children appreciate the effort I'm making at speaking their language, I also manage to crack a smile from most children because of how ridiculous my Chichewa is. Having a flexible timetable is also a great help, because it means I can take my sweet time with anyone I want- UK's NHS, you and your limited-15mins-with-patients SUCK.

It's unbelievable how much these patients rely on the hospital. These are people who will not eat to be able to get a bus to come to the appointment. A bus which costs 50cents or less. They sometimes may not even attend because of lack of money to travel (let me point out that Cure Hospital charges adults but treats every child for free. At the moment, most of my work is with these children that visit me in morning with their parents.) Some live in villages up to 4hours away, but will make the effort because they trust us. It's a pretty big deal, and this is an incredible motivation for me to do my best while I'm out here.

Ofcourse I feel lost, I'm still trying to find my feet. I complained to my Malawian friend at the hospital who just smiled and said "Palipevuto Laura. That means, No Worries."

Welcome to Cure International

Today I had my first day (half day, really) in the hospital where I will be working in during the next following months- Cure International.

7.30am: Brief chat with my supervisor, who informed me that the physio team consists of herself and me(!)

8.00am: The Chapel, a gymnasium with chairs, is where we meet every morning with our group of 9 or 10 collegues. By collegues, I mean doctors, nurses, cleaning ladies, pharmacist, receptionist and cooks. We meet for "Prayers time"- there is nothing like a bit of dancing and Gospel singing to break the ice between strangers! The first 30 seconds were slightly awkward whereby I stood there taking this all in. Nevertheless, in no time I was partying it up to "THERE'S NO ONE LIKE JESUS".

8.30am: During my 15min tour of the hospital I was warmly greeted by everyone I met, which was practically everybody working there. A lot of smiles, "Hello's" and "Muli Bwanji?" ("How are you?" To which initially I answered with a bit of a puzzled face).

9.00am: As I waited in the physio consulting room on my own, two Malawian ladies walk in carrying a baby, 3 days old, and kneel down in front of me. I had no clue what to do. At this moment I decided that I must learn some Chichewa, the other language spoken in Blantyre. Oh, just realised that I hadn't yet explained the name of my blog- well there ya go.

9.00am-12.00: Chatting to the very nice Executive Director of the hospital for 1.5hours (even invited me to go to chill in his pool with his family this weekend).

Meeting another volunteer girl who is working for the media department. She started working there recently, and when I suggested that I could hang out with her she said "Yes! I need a friend!" to which I replied "Me too!" You see, when you're "alone" there is not time to be shy or to be picky with your bff's.

Found a tennis buddy, chatted to an italian physio who has also just arrived in the city, got an email account for the hospital (no turning back now!), going jogging on Monday with a group of people I don't really know and got an assistant to give me some quick Chichewa lessons.

Overall, a pretty good day and a brilliant way to start my experience.

IT'S OFFICIAL.

After dodging several goats on the road I finally arrived in my new home in Blantyre, Malawi. For those that are not aware, I am staying with a very warm and kind family that I already knew from my uni years in London. The couple have 3 kids, Martim (11), Mariana (8) and Mafalda (7). Upon seeing my ridiculously large amount of luggage one of them exclaimed "Oh yay! Did you bring presents?!" Nobody likes to crush a happy childs spirit, but unfortunately I did. Nevertheless, they started playing with my laptop and were soon happily dancing away to my tunes (thank GOD I never deleted those High School Musical songs).

I have a beautiful bed with wooden frames with hanging linen cloths. Although the structure is actually designed to save me from getting Malaria, its nicer to think that its purpose is to make me feel like a princess. I have now fully unpacked and although my suitcase got rummaged through (I know I didn't throw everything around and leave things open and rip things up when I packed in Maputo) I didn't actually get anything stolen off me. Thanks for that South African Airlines, I hope you enjoyed having a look through my underwear and socks.

I have not been around town yet, so for now I leave you with the only photos I have taken so far:

Blantyre airport. Seriously, that is all there is to it. Behind those green cloths there is a balcony where people wave their goodbye's and hello's.

Ghecco from the Ghetto. Laura: OMG, THAT IS DISGUSTING. Mafalda: That one is cute, but I preffer the bigger ones that are usually in your room.

Getting intimate with Maputo

It's only when you start talking to those who have lived here that you start hearing undesirable stories. Living somewhere like Maputo you never feel safe leaving the house, yet at the back of your mind you might think "it's ok, there's policeman around". Is there though?

Scenario 1: Police stops a car. Owner of the car starts getting the documents out and as he hands them to the police he says "I'm not interested in your documents or driving license. Can you give me some change so I can go have breakfast?"

Scenario 2: Mr A walking down the street speaking on the phone. From behind a fellow grabs it off him and starts running. 10mins later Mr A's wife receives a phone call from the police informing that they have his mobile phone at the police station. Upon arrival, Mr A has to pay 1000Meticais (approximately 20-30€) in order to get his phone back. Nice little business going on between the police and the rude boys in the street.

I leave you with some photos from Maputo:

Kapulana, typical fabric from Mozambique

Feira do Artesanato

Xicalene, local's market

Quick stop in Maputo

On my way to Blantyre, Malawi, I had to make an (un)fortunate stop in Mozambique. Unfortunate because it delayed my arrival, fortunate because, well, why not. Maputo has good potential. Is it beautiful? Debatable. By the sea, warm weather, nice people, an African city that is actually growing economically. Yet 80% of the city's population live in slums without basic human needs (thank you Wikipedia.)

Stepping out of the airport and witnessing a kid getting arrested by the police was just a small "Welcome!" to this country. To be fair the main roads are not too bad to be walking around in. You feel mildly safe despite the fact that every guard is chilling in the shade playing snake on their phone (yes, everyone owns a phone here. Some may not even have shoes, but they will have phones). So where is the real poverty in Maputo? It was only after a drive around Xicalene that I was taken back. A market for the locals, selling everything from empty water bottles to one paired shoes. This also happens to be nearby their slums, truly favela-like.

Although it is still Winter here, the humid 27º don't go amiss. I considered going to the beach, but apparently after 11am it gets too packed.